Ten Easy Steps to a Happier, More Fulfilling Life!
by carpetinflight
Summary: There were things he'd like to get away from, true. But some parts of his life he thought he couldn't bear to give up. HarryxGinny


10.

"Your brother threatened me with gruesome death today." Harry stepped inside their little cabin and hung his coat on a hook next to the door.

"Hm. Not the first time," Ginny answered, looking up from where she sat on the sofa, a book open in her lap. Thin, yellow winter sun streamed in the window and seemed to land only on her, lighting her brilliant red hair from behind. Dust motes drifted through the air, sparkling around her as they fell. Harry knew it was just a trick of the light, but he couldn't help feeling as though everything in the room revolved around Ginny, himself included. He moved forward, barely aware of his own feet, and sat down next to her.

"Actually, I'm surprised it took him so long," Harry said, lifting a lock of her hair and twisting it around his finger. "Even Percy was faster with the threats. But I have to say, Charlie was more convincing."

"Well, Charlie has dragons," Ginny pointed out. "More opportunity to bring you gruesome death."

"True," he agreed. "Still, I'm not worried."

"No?" she asked, looking up and meeting his eyes with a smile.

"Nope," he said, cupping her chin with one hand and leaning in close. "I think I'll stay put for a long time. That is, if you'll have me."

"Always," she murmured, closing the distance between them and pressing her lips to his. Her kiss was soft and slippery, and the taste of her had been occupying his mind all day long. Still, it was the promise in her voice that warmed him and sent his insides fluttering.

9.

In the corner of pen three, nestled in a nest of twigs and hay, was an egg: enormous and speckled with gold flecks and brilliant red and maroon tracery as though it'd been painted with a dozen tiny brushes. A full-grown female Chinese Fireball stood guard over it, smoke rising from her nostrils as she watched Harry with a violent gleam in her yellow eyes. Standing up on her haunches, she was easily three times his height. The early-morning light reflected off her bright red hide. It was nearly the same color as Ginny's hair, Harry thought, and he smiled to himself. Ginny would like that comparison.

"Easy, girl," Harry told her in his most soothing voice. Wrapped in layers of denim, canvas, and protective dragonhide, he could hardly bring his arms down to his sides. When he moved forward, closer to the pen, he moved slowly as much because of his layers of clothing as the danger. Taking up a position at the side of the pen, he kept his eyes on the Fireball and waited for his partner.

From the corner of his eye, Harry saw the heifer appear in midair. Hale and healthy, but still a bit small for a full-grown cow, it would make a pleasant breakfast for the Fireball, who was watching hungrily as it flew toward her.

Charlie stepped up beside Harry and slowly lowered his wand, levitating the calf to the ground inside the paddock. "Finite incantatem," he said, then shook his wand hand out as if to loosen the tense muscles. Harry grinned in sympathy -- levitating something as large as a cow was hard work, especially over the distance between the cattle pens and the dragon paddocks. They couldn't be kept too close together, or the cattle would stampede in panic every time the wind changed.

"How's she doing?" Charlie asked, indicating the Fireball with his wand.

"Great," Harry said. "The scale rot on her tail cleared up last week, and the egg is looking good. She's eating well."

They both looked over and watched her devouring the cow, blood spurting through her teeth and running down her enormous chin. Charlie laughed.

"Great work," he said, patting Harry on the shoulder so hard that his feet might've sunk into the icy ground. "You learn fast, kid."

He turned to leave, and took a couple steps in the direction of pen four, where the Welsh Greens were kept, and then turned back. "By the way, you hurt my sister and I'll feed you to the dragons," he said cheerfully.

"I know," Harry said, and he did. Facts were facts.

Charlie walked away, whistling.

8.

"Are you _kidding_?" asked Charlie, his face hovering in the middle of the fire. "Seriously, are you pulling my leg with this?" A hand appeared next to his head, shaking a piece of parchment that Harry thought might've had his handwriting on it.

"Aww, Charlie," Ginny said, putting on a pout. "Would I do that to you?"

"You, yes," Charlie said without a moment's hesitation. "But Harry I'm not so sure on."

"I mean it," Harry said softly. It had seemed like a crazy idea at first, but he did mean it by now.

"I thought you had people lining up around the block to hire the Boy Who Lived," Charlie said. He didn't sound accusing or suspicious or anything -- it was just a fact. And Harry knew it was true, after all.

"Yeah, but--" Harry said, and then stopped. He didn't know how to explain it. "Sometimes you just want to get away from all that, you know?"

"No worries, mate, I know," Charlie said, his disembodied face breaking into a wide grin. "The jobs are yours if you want 'em -- both of you."

7.

"We could do it, you know." Harry wrapped his arms around Ginny's waist and rested his chin on her shoulder, molding his body to her own.

She leaned back against him in response, layering her arms over his own. "You think?"

"I know it," he said. He looked straight ahead, at the kitchen window. Outside was Diagon Alley, other people's flats and businesses all lit up against the dark night, other people living their lives out there. Layered over it was their reflection, two figures intertwined against the bustle of the city.

"Just you and me, far away from everything," she said, as if imagining it. "Together?" It was a question, and Harry felt a stab of pain at that.

"Of course, together," he said, kissing the side of her face next to her ear. "But you know, we'd still have to eat."

"You mean we can't just fly around on a carpet forever?" Ginny asked. "Pity."

The teapot whistled shrilly on the stove, and Ginny stepped toward it, disentangling herself from his arms. "Well, if you find some way to accomplish this miracle, let me know."

6.

"Do you ever want to just jump on a flying carpet together and get away from the world?" Ginny asked, apropos of nothing.

Harry used his arm to cover up the letter he was writing to Charlie and looked up guiltily. "What?"

Ginny's hands were balled into fists at her temples, and Harry could see individual strands of red hair poking through her fingers. He wondered idly what she would look like if she pulled it all out.

"I don't know," she said, sighing in frustration. "It's probably stupid. Just, after everything sometimes I wish you and me could just get away from here for a while. A _long_ while."

"It's not stupid," Harry said quickly.

"It is," she said. "I think I just need a study break. You want a cuppa?" She got up and went into the kitchen, and Harry looked at the place where she was sitting, noticed the balled-up parchment all over the floor, the discarded inkpots and broken quills on the table, the stacks of books that practically blocked out the windows.

He looked down at the letter in front of him, and thought about what she said. There were things he'd like to get away from, true. But some parts of his life he thought he couldn't bear to give up.

Together.

He rose from the sofa and followed her into the kitchen.

5.

There was a bright orange and red sign in the window that read HELP WANTED, so Harry stepped inside.

"Harry, m'boy!" George exclaimed, sounding happier than Harry had heard him in a long time. "Don't tell me you're looking for a job, too."

"Too?" Harry echoed. "Have you, erm -- had a lot of applicants, then?"

"Oh, tons. Heaps. Scads!" George said. "Hired four people just yesterday."

"Four?" Harry choked a little at that.

"Everyone wants to work part-time so they can take Flitwick's independent study course," Fred explained.

"Right," Harry said. He straightened his shoulders, feeling better about his spur-of-the-moment decision. "Me too."

"Yeah?" George asked, looking at him curiously. "Well, if you weren't, Charlie says the Dragon Preserve is looking for people. No experience required, you know."

"Dragon experience I have," Harry said, grinning. "Hatched Norbert when I was twelve, didn't I?"

"Sure that wasn't Hagrid, mate?"

"Well, all right. But I helped."

"Sure you did."

4.

"Of course, in your case I am certain that the educational requirements to enter Auror training would be waived," Kingsley said, leaning back in his chair and steepling his fingers.

Harry felt his feet sink into the thick carpeting as he looked across the shining expanse of desk at Kingsley. He seemed very far away.

"What about Ron?" he asked.

"Given Mister Weasley's pivotal role in your efforts against Voldemort, I believe we could arrange something for him as well, although I'd have to confirm the details with the Auror Corps, of course--"

"And the others?" Harry asked, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees to keep from sliding off the smooth leather of the chair.

"Others?" Kingsley asked, his face rearranging itself from blandly polite to blandly concerned.

"Yes, the others who applied," Harry said flatly. He knew that the Auror Training school had received a record number of applications. "No one sat NEWTs this year, and now the school is closed. What about Dean, and Corner, and Smith?"

Kingsley laughed, but it was tight and uncomfortable. "Of course, we can't just make exceptions for all of them. Not everyone is the Boy Who Lived, after all. They can study on their own and reapply after they get the required NEWTs."

"I see," Harry said. He thought with a sinking heart of the sight of Ginny's books spread across the entire kitchen table, of the way her pale fingers dug into her hair, as if she was going to pull every strand out by the root. But he knew what he had to do.

3.

There was a great horrible crowd of them waiting for him outside the Ministry, as if they knew he'd be going inside. At first, Harry tried to be polite, looking for openings in the crowd and attempting to edge through.

"Mister Potter, Mister Potter, a question from the readers of Witch Weekly -- do you wear boxers or briefs?"

"What was the nature of your relationship with the late Headmaster Dumbledore, exactly?"

"--endorse our product, Oswald's Owl Treats, nutritious and delicious! We'd just need a few spots for the wireless, and a photo of your face to go on the packaging, of course!"

"Rumor has it you visited the Falmouth Quidditch Compound last week, Harry, can you confirm that you're in discussion to play Seeker there?"

"And what do you look for in a witch, Mister Potter? Or are you still playing the field?"

"Notorious murderer Sirius Black, once a friend of your parents, was rumored to be--"

"Speak clearly into my wand, if you please, and tell the country--"

Harry gave up and shouldered his way through the crowd. He had an appointment to keep with the Minister, after all.

2.

After dinner, Ginny sat at the kitchen table with her books open, studying for her NEWTs. He should be used to it by now. She sat there every night, sometimes until long after he'd gone to sleep. She would crawl into bed with ink smeared on her forehead and mumble about potion ingredients in her sleep. Owls came each day with assignments, and left again with essays and exams.

Harry didn't envy her the independent study program, but with Hogwarts closed for repairs, it was about the only option open to her. Not everyone could have NEWTs waived and job offers lining up around the block, like him. He squelched the unpleasant feeling in his stomach at that. What could he do about it, anyway. He was Harry Potter, after all, the Boy Who Lived, and there was nothing he could do to change that, even if he wanted to.

Harry sighed and intentionally did not look at the desk in the corner of the room, where a large stack of informational pamphlets, job descriptions, offer letters, and insurance informational packets leaned drunkenly against the wall. He could think about those things later.

Instead, he picked up Mrs. Weasley's magazine and began to read.

1.

"I swear, I can't visit Mum but she's giving me some kind of crap article or coupon or story I should read," Ginny said, storming through the front door of the flat and throwing a dogeared copy of _Witch Weekly_ on his trunk with such vehemence that it bounced and landed on the floor, taking two back issues of _Quidditch Monthly_ with it. "Would you look at that trash?"

Harry looked at the magazine on the floor. On the cover was a smiling blonde witch that he thought might be Celestina Warbeck. Next to her head were big sparkling letters that advertised "TEN EASY STEPS TO A HAPPIER, MORE FULFILLING LIFE!"

"Huh," Harry said. "Doesn't sound all bad."


End file.
